


Courage & Faith

by StardustAndTeacups



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Porn Without Plot, but with a shit-ton of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15754692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustAndTeacups/pseuds/StardustAndTeacups
Summary: A continuation of their talk in 5x12 where the talk takes a veryexpectedturn... Basically, these two deserve a good first fuck after Abby got clean---But I’ll learn to breathe deepAnd make peace with the starsIs that courage or faithTo show up every day?To trust that there will be lightAlways waiting behindEven the darkest of nightsAnd no matter whatSomehow, we’ll be okayDon’t be afraid- Six by Sleeping At Last





	Courage & Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, writing this fic took wayyyy longer than it should have but it's finally finished and I really hope you guys enjoy it!

“We’ll get there.”

She had to believe that they would, and finally, she felt ready to do so. It was hard -  _my God, it was so hard_  – but the frail ember that had been buried under so many layers of shame, guilt, and sadness that she had lost sight of it completely had finally started to grow again.

Her eyes lingered on his face; the weariness that weighed his features, his empty stare at nothing in particular that told her he was getting lost inside his head. She saw the same hopelessness that had burdened her own head and heart for so long. She knew the feeling all too well. The feeling of that suffocating haze that settled around you, drawing the air from your lungs all the while everyone around you was breathing just fine. She knew it, she had felt it – heck, she  _still_  felt it – but she had also felt the sensation of that magical gust of wind, of fresh air, that had begun to part the fog, slowly but steadily making it easier to breathe.

She had felt it when she had grabbed her daughter’s hand and let her words of “we’ll get through this, too” really settle in her mind (and she had repeated those words to herself over and over again until she began to think that she might be able to believe them), and she had felt it when he had stepped into the gas station and they immediately fell back into confiding each other as if they had never been parted. She had felt it then because even though the circumstances were far from happy, even though he came with nothing but guilt and anguish, his presence was familiar and easy and  _safe_.

But it was so clear to her now, in the crease of his brow and the distant look in his eyes, that he was too close to drowning in the self-deprecating voices of his conscience to feel it himself. And just as he had been strong for her countless times before, Abby knew that she now had to be strong for him.

Sometimes it could almost feel like they were taking turns saving each other, but she knew in her heart that no matter the circumstances, no matter how much support one of them needed, the task of saving each other – and themselves – had and always would be a joint effort. She couldn’t save him without his help, and vice versa.

But she needed to save herself first.

The small, red capsule felt like it was burning a hole in her palm. The weight of it as palpable as the absence of his hand under hers. That pill, the  _last_  pill, marked another step towards recovery. The choice of going off the pills, of getting clean, was not a choice she took once, it was a choice she would have to make over and over again. And she would.

Fuelled by determination to take the first step towards getting their humanity back, she rose from her chair moving to the examination table. Her eyes lingered on the capsule in her hand for just a moment; it was so small and yet its red colour drew her attention until it was the only thing she could see. Just one light tug and she could pull it apart, spilling all its contents on the table. One small tug was all it would take. She closed her eyes then and took a deep breath.  _We’ll get there_ , she repeated to herself and then finally she pulled the two parts of the capsule from each other and watched as the white powder fell from its confines and disappeared into the white fabric of the sheet which covered the table.

She tore her eyes from where they had been transfixed by the falling powder and took another deep breath. The first step had been taken.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus breathed into the silence which had settled around them. The sound of his voice startled her, and the two caps of the pill fell from her hands onto the table. Her first instinct was to reach for the pieces, to grab them and hide them so he wouldn’t see, but the pill was empty now, harmless, there was no need to hide anything from him anymore. So instead her hands gripped the edge of the table. His footsteps rang out as he crossed the floor to stand behind her.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there,” he paused his hand reaching for hers, seeking her touch. It felt good, and natural, the way his fingers curled around her hand. “And I am proud of you.”

She gave his hand a light squeeze in response not really wanting to say what was on her mind because if she were honest, a part of her was relieved he hadn’t been there. She didn’t want him to see her like that, she didn’t want  _anyone_  to see her like that, but now that it was over she was glad it had been Clarke and not him. He had seen too much of this monster already, knew it almost as well as she did, and Clarke, Clarke hadn’t known anything, hadn’t lived through the horrors that had chipped away at her light, her hope, until only darkness remained. Clarke had seen her mom, suffering, fragile, and in need of help, but still, her mom and that had given Abby the strength to believe that who she once had been was still somewhere inside her.

“I knew you would get through this,” he continued when she stayed silent. “I know I wasn’t always- I know it didn’t always seem like it, but I always knew you would beat this. You  _will_  get through this.”

“So will you.” She turned to face him finding his eyes closed and shoulders slumped.

“Abby…”

“No, Marcus. We’ve made it this far. That’s worth something.” She paused, “ _This_  is worth something.” She moved their joint hands to lie over his heart – his beating heart – and felt as it thudded rhythmically against his chest, then she clutched them to her own chest. “We are still here despite everything. And as long as we are, there’s hope.”

She knew their mantra of “we will find our humanity again” had all but lost its weight by now. For more than six years they had repeated it to themselves and to each other thinking that if they did so they might just begin to believe it, but in the end, they had robbed those words of any meaning they might once have held. So, instead of repeating that phrase once again, Abby chose to latch on to the one word which none of them had dared speak in so long;  _hope_.

There was nothing more to say, nothing more they could do but have hope. And what was hope if not  _him,_ living, breathing, and right in front of her with his dark eyes looking into hers? Loving him and being loved in return felt like taking another step towards whatever kind of redemption might be possible for them. It was the only thing she was certain of anymore.

“Hope”, he echoed with a wistful edge to the word as if it were something just out of his reach, something that was doomed to remain forever unattainable to him. He smiled softly prompting her to brush her fingers over his cheek. There was a distant look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t quite present, as if remembering something which had long passed, like the first time her lips had graced him there, pressing that very word into his skin, into his heart. What a different time that had been, a different world, and they, too, had been different people.

He kissed the palm of her hand in silent acknowledgement. He wasn't saying that he was ready to hope, that he had moved on from the beliefs that he had voiced just a few moments earlier, she knew it would take more than just a few words, she knew he wasn't quite there yet. But maybe, she thought, just maybe he was ready to believe that it might be possible for them, or at least for her – it always came harder to him to believe in himself – to get there.

She held his gaze, got lost in the infinite depth of his brown eyes and then, slowly, she rose to her tiptoes, being pulled in by an invisible force, and their lips met. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, drawing him closer and he responded by settling his hand on her jaw, gently tilting her head up and deepening the kiss without question or hesitation. There was no urgency or desperation in the act, only slow, soft movements of lips against lips, hot breath mingling. But beneath the languor lived a bone-deep tiredness and Abby could feel how it was holding him back. It made tears prick behind her closed lids and her chest tighten. Even though they were together – alone for the first time in weeks – a part of his mind couldn’t let go of what was happening outside this building, his thoughts still lingered on the battlefield he had helped create.

Her heart ached for him. It ached for his heavy heart and burdened shoulders, for all the crosses he had taken upon himself to bear. She wished so desperately to have him back, not just his body but his mind as well, she wished for him to let go, even for just the briefest of moments. He needed to get out of his own head, he needed to forget the chaos around them.

“Marcus,” she murmured as she broke the kiss, hands cradling his head, running her thumbs over the soft texture of his beard and coaxing him to look at her, really look. “I need you.” She paused for a moment, eyes tracing his features. “I need you  _here_.”

He bent forward, resting his forehead against hers and for a few short moments he just breathed with her, the same air flowing through them with each inhale and exhale as they filled their lungs in unison.

“I’m here,” he finally breathed after a long pause, leaning back. When she caught his eyes they held that present intensity after which she had longed; he was actually here with her, truly seeing her for the first time after the pills. There would always be a before, during, and after, now. It would never be possible to go back to the way things had been, to the person she had been before all this, but god she was more than ready to find out who she could be now.

“I’m here,” he whispered again as he leant in and buried his face in her hair, lips brushing her pulse point and effectively turning the tentative smile that had graced her features into an ‘o’ as a gasp escaped her. He trailed his hot, open mouth up her neck, his kisses turning feather-light as they brushed past her ear and her cheekbone. His hands settled at her hips, fingers seeking out that small slip of bare skin he knew was to be found where her leather jacket met her pants.

As his ministrations grew more heady she started panting, her heart rate increasing as skin touched skin and his mouth inched closer to hers.  _Not enough_ , sounded a voice inside her head, giving voice to the yearning she felt in every fibre of her being. She was impatiently anticipating the moment their lips would meet again, knowing this time would be more lustful than before, her whole body ached for him to cover her lips with his so that she may taste him again.

But she was robbed of that feeling.

An unexpected, forceful yank at her hips pulled her away from him and before she realised what was happening she was propped up on the metal table with Marcus pushing her legs apart as he stepped between them. With breathless eagerness, Abby wrapped her legs around his middle, more than ready to get back to where they left off. No further encouragement was needed, and in a fraction of a second Marcus’ mouth was on hers, all soft lips and scratchy beard, and the brief interruption was forgiven and instantly forgotten.

The next time his lips left hers left no room or reason for complaint. He kept them fixed on her skin and began a maddening descent downwards, tracing invisible lines down her neck, across her collarbone, brushing the top of her breasts. Sparks sizzled under every heated touch of his mouth, like a light bursting from her chest, tended to by the frantic movements of his hands and lips. They were all over her – firmly gripping her hips, her shoulders, her back, always seeking to press her body closer to his – making heat course through her whole body. Her own hands were buried in his hair making short work of the hair tie which fruitlessly fought to tame his perpetually unruly hair. It tickled her slightly as it brushed her chest which elicited an airy giggle from her. Marcus did not seem to notice, he was too busy bestowing all his attention on whatever patch of skin that wasn’t covered up by her shirt and jacket which, granted, was quite a bit.

He had always liked her leather jacket – and its plunging neckline – and had made sure that she knew just how much (through occasional remarks but mostly by being not-so-subtle with where his eyes lingered). Abby, however, did not, in that moment, share the same appreciation for her jacket – or the rest of her clothes for that matter.

Impatient to get out of her constricting garment her hands left his hair where they had been buried and found the metal clasps of her corset. She struggled for a moment, but her hands were soon brushed aside by his own which set to work on the complicated clasps and straps with an expertise only earned through years of practice. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t condemn her choice of wardrobe on occasions like this, because in spite of Marcus’ methodical movements it still took far too long before the jacket was finally pulled from her shoulders and flung to some unknown place across the room.

The jacket was out of the way and her top and bra followed suit, leaving her bared before his eyes. She noted the sharp intake of breath from Marcus as his gaze drifted across her half-naked body. It was something she’d come to expect from him in moments like this, no matter if they were taking their time and going slow or more hurried and heady that small hiss of his inhale was always there. It had been so since their first time, back then – when he’d had nothing but lust and wonder in his big, loving eyes – she had attributed the reaction to the newness of it all, to him being taken aback by the fact that they were  _there_ , together, and in love. But now, so many years later, she didn’t dare flatter herself by thinking that she still, six years older, could have such an effect on him. She had no explanation for how he, every single time and without fail, took this one brief moment to look at her and  _gasp_  as if he were still confounded by the fact that she was his so completely – except to think that it was mere muscle memory at this point. His eyes, however, still held the same love and desire that she had grown so familiar with and muscle memory or not, she would never doubt the depth of his feelings, not when she herself felt every fibre of her being reaching out for him, begging to be close –  _closer_  – to him.

So, with desperate hands and hurried movements, she pulled his sweater over his head and surged up to capture his lips again. Arms and legs were clinging to him fiercely, as she chased the exhilarating feeling of his naked skin against hers. And in that moment that was enough; her chest pressed so close to his, their teeth clashing before the kiss morphed into something softer, something warm and familiar, something that tasted of him, of  _home._

But the moment could only last so long. She wanted all of him, now. Now that they would no longer be plagued by the third, uninvited presence of her addiction in their bed as had been their reality for so long. Now that her mind was clear and her senses more alert than ever. Now that she could let herself  _feel_  again. She wanted him, needed him, needed to feel him everywhere – around her and inside her.

She began tugging at the buckle of his belt but was halted by a firm hand gripping her wrists.

“Abby,” he interjected, with a warning in his voice which puzzled her.

“Marcus,” she countered, leaning back.

“I missed you.” He said it as if stating a simple, obvious fact. “And I want you.” He leaned in to kiss her. “I want you so bad,” he declared into her soft lips, “but I’m not-,” he broke the kiss, “We’re not doing it here.” He pushed her further against the table which in turn gave a rattle and jerked an inch and she caught his drift.

“We’re blaming the table, I see,” she quipped, “and not your knees.”

“My knees have nothing to do with it.” His tone was light and joking but his eyes carried the dark colour of lust. In one swift movement, he wound a hand around her toned thigh and picked her off the table with ease. “I’m not that old yet.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him in a challenge which only made his strides towards the bed longer and faster until he unceremoniously dropped her on the squeaky mattress.

“Not that old,” she echoed with a smile after recovering from the slight surprise of his quick movements. Her eyes trailed from his matching smile down his bare chest. “Not at all,” she whispered as she leant forward to press her lips to his still-toned abdomen. She felt his muscles tense beneath her touch and felt goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingers as they trailed down to rid him of his trousers. She could get lost in the taste of his skin, the sound of his breathing hitching, the feel of his warmth radiating beneath her lips and fingers.

As she worked on his pants and underwear she felt his hands tangle in her hair, gentle fingers untying her hair tie and brushing through the braided locks until her hair fell loose around her shoulders.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed reverently, coaxing her to look up at him with a hand tilting her chin. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, those words felt so good to hear, the affirmation that she was still beautiful to him even though the colour of her hair had begun to fade and the lines in her face grown deeper was something she needed to hear. She hadn’t looked herself in the mirror lately, but she certainly hadn’t felt beautiful in a long time. She felt beautiful when she looked into his eyes now.

In one fluid motion, he stepped out of his remaining clothes and bent down to kiss her. He sunk to his knees in front of the bed trailing his lips, slowly, along the curve of her neck, his tongue flicking lightly across her skin, teasing her pulse point. His hands, ghosting down her sides and briefly brushing her nipples causing them to harden and pebble, soon found the waistband of her pants. After trailing the rim of her jeans with a delicate finger – a sensation which instantly covered her entire body in goosebumps – he nudged them down her legs until they, too, fell on the floor beside his.

“ _Beautiful,_ ” he breathed into the soft skin on the inner side of her knee as he lifted it up to lie over his shoulder with a wicked grin. Her breath hitched in anticipation, feeling his breath flow in soft caresses up her thigh. He began an achingly slow path of sloppy kisses and teasing licks towards her centre and by the time he had reached her mid-thigh Abby was unashamedly whimpering and writhing, craving his touch and practically begging for him to stop the tender foreplay and get on with it. She said as much to him which frustratingly only made him stop entirely and send her a brilliant smirk.

 _That man,_ Abby thought with a fond roll of her eyes,  _he always knows exactly what to do to get on my nerves._  However, as soon as he had satisfied himself with her reaction of flustered indignation he changed his approach. His hands, which had until now been sliding lightly up and down her thighs in maddening caresses, grabbed her hips in firm resolution pulling her to him until she was on the very edge of the bed.

She gasped at the sudden action, but her body seemingly didn’t suffer the same surprise as her mind had; her legs had now both found their way to rest on his shoulders while her hands were braced on the rumpled covers of the bed, supporting her weight. And it was a good thing they were.

Without preamble his mouth was on her, his practised tongue darting out teasing her, tasting her and causing a shudder to spring from the base of her spine making her limbs tremble. He mumbled something unintelligible, but all Abby noticed was how his voice created sweet vibrations that sent spikes of pleasure coursing through her body and made her mind go blank.

He knew what he was doing, had done it many times before and knew exactly what she liked, but somehow the electric effect of his lips on her, his tongue flicking her clit or bestowing long licks along her folds, had not diminished. His languid strokes turned harder, prodding at her entrance, lapping up her juices. She felt pleasure building. She collapsed on the mattress, her back arching and her hands reaching out for his wonderful head of hair to urge him on. Her hands buried themselves in his long tresses guiding him to where she wanted him when her voice failed her.

His lips curled around the sensitive little bud giving it eager sucks and flicks over and over again until she saw stars. Toned legs caught his head in a vice as her whole body quivered with the sensations of her orgasm. He didn’t seem to mind. Sharp gasps left her lips as convulsions of pleasure overtook her. His tongue was gentle now, drawing it out with long delicate strokes that seemed to move with the waves coursing inside her rolling with a faint but insistent force until her orgasm ebbed. She felt him place a final kiss to her damp, sensitive skin before he lifted her legs from him with tender hands.

Her limbs were unsteady when she propped herself up on her elbows just in time to catch the ridiculous grin on his face. There was really no point in rolling her eyes at him this time; he was good,  _very good_ , and considering the sounds she had just made and the way her hair was no doubt falling around her in one big, tangled mess, nothing she could say or do would indicate otherwise. The urge to tease him, however, became too strong when he rose from the floor and the sound of muted cracks coming from his knees filled the air.

“Not that old,” she said quirking an eyebrow and it was all she could do to not break out in a spontaneous fit of laughter at the sight of his confident smile dissipating like snow beneath the hot summer sun.

“If you have any complaints about my performance feel free to say so and I shall not lay a finger on you again,” he said with feigned offence.

She shook her head and laughed and with each giggle, she felt lighter than before. She had missed the teasing and their light-hearted banter, life in the bunker hadn’t left much room for such folly. She couldn’t remember the last she had truly, genuinely smiled, let alone  _laughed_ , but she did now as the melodic notes of his own happiness mingled with hers. He climbed onto the bed taking her face in his hands, his eyes roaming over her features as she continued to laugh. Then his sparkling eyes landed on hers and their laughter died out, but her smile remained.

He pressed brief kisses to the crinkles which had formed at her eyes, marking the few marks on her body that had not been caused by worry or pain with a gesture of love. A love that had already been woven into her very being and was now swelling inside her to the point where she felt like her chest might burst. He settled above her and finally, urged by her leg around his back, slid into her.

In unison, they gasped, or maybe it was more of a sigh, both of them overtaken by the sensations and emotions surging up inside them as they were united in this final, all-encompassing way. They began to move in the familiar dance; every thrust of his hips and arch of her back fuelled by raw desire. This time their movements weren’t hurried or desperate like they’d been so many times before when there was no time to take it slow, when this had just been a small spike of  _something,_  some kind of sensation contrasted with the dull, grey world she had been living in. This time, they had time and she had found her fire again. She felt alive again.

All these sensations inside her now felt like the purest of ecstasy making her lightheaded. Around her; his body blanketing hers, all sweat-sheened skin and taut muscle, and inside her; stretching her, filling her so completely.

They moved in an imperfect rhythm of rolling tandem, hands roaming each other’s body while lips explored whatever expanse of skin they could reach. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his lips hot on her skin lavishing her before biting down teasingly. She moaned at the contrasting touch and pressed him closer to her with an insistent foot against his backside. The evidence of her pleasure only seemed to encourage him further, his thrusts grew deeper and his hand rougher where it gripped her leg. His mouth drifted from her neck down, ghosting across her collarbone, between the valley of her breasts and finally taking a nipple between his lips. The skin pebbled beneath the hard swirls of his tongue and her breath quickened as a series of high-pitched gasps fell from her lips.

His firm grasps on her thigh loosened and his fingers ran lightly over her skin where his hand had just been before it drifted to where their bodies were joined. His touch sent chills down her spine and set fire to every atom of her being all at once, the delicious friction of his practised fingers leading her towards another intense spike of pleasure.

“Marcus,” she gasped, “baby I’m-,  _God_.” With both hands buried in his hair, she pulled him from her chest until she could crash her lips to his. When the kiss broke she held his face right above hers. He didn’t need to hear her say it, he already knew she was close and she could see in his dark eyes that so was he.

“I love you.”

With their eyes locked onto each other, she felt as the waves of pleasure rose and crashed within her, filling her like he did and making her mind go blank for a brief but cherished moment. As pleasure overtook her she couldn’t help but let her eyes fall closed. She quivered and writhed beneath him, breath heaving to the rhythm of his frantic thrusts and moan of “ _Abby, Abby, Abby_ ” as he, too, toppled over the edge.

Afterwards, when they were curled into each other, sweaty and out of breath but ultimately happy, Abby dared to think the world a little brighter than before. With his arms wrapped safely around her and his head nuzzled into the damp hair on her neck, she felt lighter, safer, and more hopeful than she would have believed possible just a couple of weeks ago.

That’s the good thing about hitting rock bottom, the only way from there is up. It was a steep climb which lay in front of them, but she had no doubt that they could brave this mountain together.


End file.
